As I have grown older I experience life in two diametrically opposite ways. Sometimes when a new year begins the days seem to fly by so quickly that I want to catch them, hold on to them and make them slow down. Other times I feel as though I am plodding through the last phases of life in slow motion. The pains in my knees keep me from being active all the day long. I have to pace my self and in the course of taking time to rest and revitalize I have a sense of losing the energy that once defined my life.
My husband and I have been moving our tropical plants into the garage before a potential freeze hits our area. There was a time when we would have completed the job of protecting our flora in a matter of a few hours. Now we have to pace ourselves by moving two or three of the largest specimens and then resting for an hour. What once took part of a single day now takes many days to accomplish. While I am happy that we are still able to do anything this strenuous regardless of how long it takes, part of me longs for the vitality of my youth that I did not fully appreciate until now.
I am grateful for being able to still maintain the routines of my life regardless of how long it takes me to complete them, but somehow the weakening of my stamina makes me all too aware that I am entering a new phase of life in which it is doubtful that I will get stronger and more likely that my abilities will slowly become more and more reduced. Because of this I am filled with an urge to grab the wind while I still can and spend my days doing all of the things that I have loved or dreamed of enjoying. I hear the ticking of my biological clock and it is telling me to seize each day.
I have been following the travels of a friend who is also retired from teaching mathematics. She seems to be determined to be adventurous while she is able. During this holiday season she fulfilled one of her bucket list dreams of traveling to Antarctica. She did so alone to the concern of her family. Somehow she knew that not only would she be fine, but that her journey would be a triumph. Her photographic journal presented gloriously incredible views of what she saw, but more than anything they revealed the unmitigated joy that she was feeling. Her emotions were so palatable that I somehow felt that I was with her when she saw the wonders of that frozen landscape. Her trip was exhilarating and it reminded me that I too have heard the call of faraway places.
I am now of an age that virtually everyone considers to be old. I am often cautioned by younger folks to slow down and be more careful. They want me to hire someone to decorate my home for holidays or to move heavy plants from my backyard into my garage. They caution me not to travel too far away from home lest I become ill or injured and need medical care. They worry about me with kind hearts but do not seem to understand that I am still quite able to undertake most tasks. The only thing that has changed is that I must do all of them more slowly, more deliberately, more patiently.
When I go for walks I maintain a slower pace. Sometimes I stop when I see a bench to rest for a time before continuing. What might have taken me thirty minutes in the past now requires an hour but I still achieve the same distance, the same feeling of exhilaration. I am fully aware of my limitations but I have learned how to be patient with them.
I have a friend who has MS and it has not made her a homebound hermit. She still travels from Georgia to Texas with many stops in between to smell the roses and fortify her body. She travels regularly with groups. When the activities require heavy duty hiking she finds a spot to sit and simply admire the panoramic views. She assures me that the guides adjust to her needs and that her outlook is always quite positively transformed by her journeys.
A year ago my sister-in-law fell while on a cruise. She injured one of her eyes and still has not completely regained her sight. She has endured much trauma associated with her health during the past year and now must walk with a patch on her injured eye and with a cane to keep her balance. Nonetheless she is ready to travel again and anxious to see as much as she is able until the day comes when she will have to retire from her adventures. She and my friend inspire me to get back on the road again and to keep moving until my body tells me that it is time to stop.
I want to plan a journey this year. I’m not sure where it will be or how I will be able to make it happen but that is my resolution for the future. I know that I won’t be backpacking in the mountains or hiking for hours without rest but I am sure that with pacing I can go anywhere that I wish and I should do so. I have to find someone to look after my father-in-law while I am gone but that should be doable if I begin planning now. My only difficulty will be deciding where in the world I most want to be.
Wish me luck in creating a dream trip for a seventy six year old whose knees and hips like to scream that I am doing too much. I think it can be done just as easily as hauling those huge plumeria trees to my garage. I will just need to plan with patience for myself. The world is waiting for me.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 